Double Trouble
by Thal Callie
Summary: After an accidental meeting in a coffee shop, the nations discover a quite interesting fact that doubles craziness in the Hetalia world. Let's just hope that Prussia, or Prussias, won't drive everyone insane with their awesome antics. Good luck world. You're going to need it. A lot. UPDATE: In which America brushes off some vital information and Prussia gets this party started.
1. There's two of us?

Hey there! Thal here. I've decided to give the Hetalia fandom a shot, so if you're a more seasoned Hetalia veteran, please tell me if I'm representing the countries accurately!

I am aware that the Nyotalia versions of the countries have different personalities than that of the Hetalia countries, so I'll do my best not to make them clones of each other.

This was a plot bunny that was on the back burner in my mind for a while now, but I haven't really gotten around to actually writing it until a couple days ago.

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**~Double Trouble~**

_Chapter 1: There's two of us?_

England sat in the tiny cafe, absentmindedly stirring his tea as he gazed out the window. It had been raining a few minutes ago, as it often does in London, the dewy raindrops still sliding down the glass panes. He took a sip of his steaming cup of Earl Grey and leaned back into the cushioned chair with a contented sigh.

His chair was stationed in an inconspicuous spot near a window overlooking the bustling street. Quite cozy, if England had to describe it. He usually stopped by the vintage cafe after World Summit conferences, if they were held in his capital city.

It had been another normal day at the World Summit meeting. In other words, they had accomplished absolutely nothing. That is not to say it was uneventful or boring. It was, in fact, the opposite. As always, America was spouting off completely daft ideas, France was being...France, and Prussia broke into the meeting (he found them again, somehow) to start a German Sparkle Party. The nation shuddered. He would be scarred for life after seeing the dissolved country dancing in neon "party pants."

World Summit meetings were always filled with chaos, and the countries who actually wanted to get things done, namely Germany, were at their wit's end. Towards the last half-hour of most meetings, England found himself with a strong wish to just rid himself of the surrounding stupidity and curl up in a small corner with a comforting cuppa, if he wasn't occupied with yelling at France.

This desire of an escape led him to a small cafe on the corner of a London intersection. It was fairly peaceful, filled with the low whispers of customers and musical tinkling from the silver bells attached to the front door announcing the arrival of new patrons. He was glad to find a tranquil haven in the midst of all the chaos.

Sadly, for this poor man, his haven was about to be destroyed by a group of five young women who had just stepped through the glass door.

"I know sometimes it must be difficult for you, Amelia, but at least try not to act like an imbecile." England winced inwardly at the loud voice that broke the tranquility. The girl, who, like the others in her group, was probably in her late teens or early twenties, spoke with a decidedly upper-class English accent. A decidedly_ irritated_ upper-class English accent, to be exact. She wore a blue rain-speckled pea coat with a red pleated skirt peeking out from underneath. A black umbrella rested in the crook of her arm.

The girl next to her, Amelia, as England now identified her, looked questioningly at her friend's severe scowl. "I was not acting like an imbecile. Unlike some people, I actually contribute awesome ideas during our meetings," she retorted, a cheery grin plastered on her slightly freckled face, earning an eyeroll from her British friend.

Definitely American. England decided that she would probably be good friends with America, if she knew the country. She stowed a sunny yellow raincoat in her bag and straightened out her Rosie the Riveter sweater. The girl's blue jeans were soaked from the bottom down, and her black rain boots were dripping wet; both proof of her habit of puddle-jumping. She jerked a thumb at the brunette next to her. "All you do is bicker with Françoise the whole time."

"We do not argue, we debate," the Frenchwoman, Françoise, corrected, tossing her perfectly curled hair before stepping up to the counter to order a hot drink. England noticed that she dressed more formally than her comrades, as she was wearing a stylish black trench coat over what England guessed was a white suit skirt. The woman sported black pumps despite the rainy weather. "I am much too classy to engage in such a manner with anyone, especially Alice," the woman clarified loftily.

"Bloody frog!" Alice, the girl who had first spoken, jerked her head angrily and glared at Françoise, her two blonde ponytails flying and almost hitting Amelia, who was standing next to her, in the face.

"You two are so immature, aru! Just go and order a drink already! You two are always making a scene." A petite Chinese girl behind Alice exasperatedly prodded the fuming Englishwoman towards the counter, using her yin-yang umbrella as her weapon of choice. She wore a red sweater dress with gold buttons. Her hair, slightly damp from the light rain, was arranged neatly in two buns on each side of her head. England groaned. They were a bit too loud for his taste.

"Yes. Listen to Chun-yan." A tall blonde woman standing behind them cut off Alice's scathing retort in a sweet, youthful voice, clasping her gloved hands together.

"Anya..." Françoise stuttered, her voice betraying a slight hint of fear. Almost instantly, the other girls fell silent under Anya's, as England now identified her, innocent gaze. She reminded England of Russia. She looked harmless in her pink headband and matching coat, but something about her made the island nation shudder inwardly. It must be her lavender eyes, England concluded, or perhaps it was that she so strongly resembled the snowy nation.

"How about you order your drinks, da?" It sounded more like an order to England than a request.

Amelia shivered and shook her head, her short blonde curls bouncing up and down. She stepped up to the granite counter after Françoise ordered her coffee. "I'd like one peppermint hot chocolate, please! For Amelia Jones!" The American smiled infectiously and handed the amused cashier her payment before he asked for her name, then flashed a V for Victory symbol. England took no notice that her last name was the same as America's human name. After all, Jones was a very common American surname.

"Make that two." Anya piped up and payed for her drink, then began to wind her pale golden hair into a tidy braid.

"A small oolong tea, please!" Chun-yan pulled out a couple of pounds from her red wallet.

Alice ordered last, a scowl set on her face. "Just the usual, miss." She gave a quick, fake smile and uttered a short "thank you" when she was handed her cup of black tea.

The patter of rain began again and the group of girls looked out the window.

"Do you think we should wait it out, aru? I don't think Monika was happy with us arriving drenched last time in New York." Chun-yan looked out the window at the steadily growing drizzle.

"I suppose so," Alice answered, sipping daintily out of her cup. "I don't want her to yell at us again."

"Let's sit here, da?" Anya sat down at a small table with five chairs. The group agreed and began chatting amongst themselves.

Chun-yan rested her face delicately in her hands. "I just realised that we almost got through a meeting today without interruption."

England wished that was the case in his own conferences.

"That was before Gillian arrived and crashed the meeting. I can't believe she decided to come. She's not even a cou-she doesn't really count anymore," Françoise sighed, then added, "Although she does add a bit of fun to those boring meetings."

England raised an eyebrow at this statement. It reminded him of how Prussia had interrupted their meeting.

"She isn't fun, she's immature," Alice muttered wearily, leaning back into her chair.

"You okay?" Amelia shot her a concerned look. "You sound really worn out."

"I'm fine. And it's 'are you okay' not 'you okay,' git," the girl snapped, obviously annoyed. "Can't you speak your own language with proper grammar?"

England nodded mentally in agreement. The girl had atrocious grammar.

The American scooted her chair closer and gave her an earnest look. "If you need help Iggy, you can always tell me. After all, I am the heroine."

England gaped in his seat. Iggy? That was America's nickname for him! This day was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. The American girl, Amelia, even acted like his boisterous friend.

At that very moment, America walked through the door, wiping some raindrops off of his glistening hair. He was whistling a lively tune as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket. When he spotted England he immediately brightened and flashed a blinding grin.

"Hey Artie!" America slid down into the seat across from the island nation. At least he remembered to call him a human name this time; the last time he'd called him England in public he'd earned a couple strange looks.

"It's Arthur, not Artie, you wanker," 'Arthur' took a sip of his murky tea and scowled. "How did you find me, Alfred?"

Alfred ignored the question. "I'm gonna go order something, 'kay?"

The American walked up to the counter and looked over the different options. "I'd like one peppermint hot chocolate, please! For Alfred Jones!" He flashed the cashier a V for Victory signal.

Arthur was rendered speechless again. Amelia had ordered the exact same thing the exact same way. Come to think about it, those girls really reminded him of certain people...

"This is pretty good!" Alfred commented to his open-mouthed British friend after he plopped into his seat. He cocked his head in confusion. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Arthur snapped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes. "Let's get going. We'd best be getting back to my place." He looked outside at the lengthening shadows. "Matthew is making some pancakes. We have a G8 meeting tomorrow at 9 and I don't want you to sleep in again and be late."

"Pancakes!" Alfred's eyes opened wide in excitement, completely disregarding the latter half of Arthur's spiel. "Mattie's pancakes are the bomb! Gilbert even calls them awesome!" He proceeded to do an enthusiastic happy dance, spilling some of his hot chocolate on a very irritated Arthur's sleeve.

"Congratulations. You officially ruined my shirt, you bloody wanker," Arthur growled, wiping some of the offensive drink off of his formerly white shirt.

"You can always get another one! Let's go already."

Arthur picked up his navy blue trench coat and headed out the door after the enthusiastic American.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of blue eyes watched their retreating forms. She twirled a strand of curly blonde hair around her finger as she sipped her peppermint cocoa. There was something about them that she couldn't place, besides the fact that the British guy really acted like Alice. Wait...could they be? A growing suspicion began emerging from her scattered thoughts. What if they were-

"Amelia, are you listening to me?"

The said American blinked her eyes dazedly and uttered a confused "huh?"

Alice threw her hands up in exasperation. "I was saying that a G8 meeting will be held tomorrow starting at 9:30 sharp. Please try not to be late again."

"Sorry." Amelia smiled impishly. "I'll be there."

"Let's just hope everything will run smoothly without any complications."

Sadly, for the poor Briton, that wish wouldn't come true.

America burst through the doors of the conference room, hair slightly askew and face beaming brightly. To everyone's surprise, he had actually arrived less than 30 minutes late. He had arrived 27 minutes late, to be exact.

"Ve~! Good morning, America!" Veneziano happily bounced across the room toward him. "You arrived early today! You deserve a gold star!"

America accepted the shiny sticker that the Italian had just pulled out of who-knows-where and plastered it with a smile over his army bomber jacket. "Thanks a bunch, man!"

"Just belt up and start the presentation already, bloody git. Even though twenty-seven minutes late is early for you, it's still late for the rest of us," England groaned and massaged his already aching temples.

America straightened out his folder of papers and began. "So I have this super cool idea to save the world..."

The rest of the room (except for Italy, who was making paper airplanes) collectively groaned as the lively nation babbled on about some ridiculous idea that probably was in no way feasible.

Three minutes into his speech, Italy raised his hand and waved it wildly. "Ne, ne, I have a question!"

"I recognize Italy! What's your question, dude?"

"Who are those pretty ladies watching us?"

The members of the G8 stared in shock at the open doorway, where eight young women stared, equally shocked, back.

Germany stood up and addressed them. "I'm sorry, but we have a private conference in session of high importance. We will be done with our meeting in a couple hours. You can make use of this room then."

"I believe there must be a misunderstanding." A woman with short blonde hair stepped forward. She wore a long green army coat. "We also have a very important conference scheduled in this room."

England's eyes widened. This group of girls was the same group that he had seen in the cafe yesterday, plus three others.

"Yeah. I hate to break it to ya', honey, but there aren't many things that can top a G8 meeting." Amelia stepped forward. This time, all the countries gaped. The outfit she was wearing was essentially the feminine version of America's. Combat boots, bomber jacket, pleated green skirt, and a matching green crop-top.

Alice, who was to the left of Amelia, groaned. "Go ahead. Why don't you go tell the whole bloody world about our top secret government meeting. Well done, America."

"Hey, I didn't-" Amelia and Alfred stopped mid-sentence and stared at each other. "Wait..." they began in unison, "You're America too?"

A suffocating silence quickly filled the room until America, the male America, or Alfred as we will now refer to him, broke a winning grin and gushed, "That's so cool!"

Amelia beamed back and ran across the room to Alfred. "Does that mean we're siblings or something?"

"I dunno. But I'll adopt you as my sister now!" Alfred smiled and the two Americas bear-hugged.

"That's not how you adopt people legally, you idiot," England scowled and rolled his eyes.

Alfred, who had his arm slung around Amelia, laughed. "Aww, come on, Iggy. You're no fun."

"For the last time, my name isn't Iggy!" Alice retorted indignantly, then huffed, ignoring the confused look on the Americans' faces and the fact that Alfred had actually called Arthur Iggy, not her. "I suppose since there are two Americas there must be two of every country. I'll introduce myself first. I'm the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or more specifically England, also known as Alice Kirkland."

"I'm England as well, Arthur Kirkland," the island nation stood and gave a stiff smile at his counterpart.

France smirked and stood suavely. "Francis Bonnefoy, or La République Française," he purred with a flip of his hair. Alice shuddered.

"Françoise Bonnefoy, also France," the Frisian smoothly curtsied and winked at Francis, who sauntered over to her side. "I think we'll get along just fine."

"Wang Yao. I represent 中华人民共和国, or the People's Republic of China," the Asian man bowed and straightened out his red mandarin jacket.

"Wang Chun-yan. I am also China." Chun-yan quietly padded across the room over to her male version.

"Repubblica Italiana!" A sweet, girlish voice piped up. "Actually, I'm just North Italy. My sister Chiara is South Italy. I'm Daisy Vargas." She smiled brightly.

"Me too! I'm Feliciano Vargas!" The two Italians ve-d and rushed over to each other and began chatting about how much they loved their siblings and food, not necessarily in that order.

"Monika Beilschmidt. Bundesrepublik Deutschland." The German woman scanned the room for the other Germany, who was standing near the front of the room.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt. Also Germany." Ludwig gave a curt nod.

"Honda Sakura. I represent 日本." The petite Japanese girl bowed and began nervously fiddling with the sleeve of her lavender kimono.

"I am Japan also. Honda Kiku." He smiled faintly and walked over to his female counterpart.

Russia spoke quietly, his scarf obscuring most of his mouth. "I am Ivan Braginski, or Русской Федерации"

"Anya Braginski, also Russia," she answered in an equally soft voice, all the while fingering the handle of her shovel.

"Matthew Williams. I'm Canada."

Amelia blinked then cocked her head at the half-visible nation. "Who?" The other countries looked around for the other North American brother.

"Canada! I've been here the whole time," the poor Canuck whispered and hugged Kumajirou to his chest.

"I'm also Canada. I'm Marguerite Williams, but you can just call me Meg." A girl slowly materialized beside Matthew. She was also hugging a polar bear.

"I think we should adjourn this meeting. We can just finish it up tomorrow," Alfred suggested.

"I agree with Alfred-san," Kiku spoke up.

"All right. Meeting is over," Arthur finalized.

The nations broke up into small groups around the room. Francis and Françoise were devising new ways to spread l'amour, Ivan and Anya shared anecdotes about their siblings, Kiku and Sakura discussed their favorite anime shows, Feliciano and Daisy argued about whether pasta or pizza was more delicious, Ludwig and Monika empathized with each other being the only serious ones, Yao and Chun-yan traded different pastry recipes, Arthur and Alice griped to each other about America, and Alfred and Amelia talked about how horrible England's cooking was.

They were so focused on their new-found "siblings" that they didn't notice a pair of ruby eyes narrowing in the corner behind the leaves of a potted plant.

"We have female versions, huh? I bet mine is super awesome. When I find her, we're going to have an awesome time pulling awesome pranks on all of those unawesome losers. Except for Birdie."

_Kesesesesesese..._

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V for Victory signal: peace sign (yup! That's where that cutsie two-finger salute came from! It was a sign for the Allies back in WWII)

l'amour: love

So much dialogue. T.T I'm considering just keeping this a one or two-shot. But, if I do decide to make this a full-fledged story, I'll probably update once or twice a week (hopefully!)

Love it? Hate it? Found some horrendously incorrect grammar? Please Review! I really appreciate it.

Until next time! ~Thal


	2. Americans have crazy ideas

I'm back! I've added on to this little project of mine. I've decided that this story is going to be a little inspiration story, and by that I mean I'll update it when I'm on a writer's block with some other fics of mine. No, I don't post a lot of stuff on this site, but I may in the future. This chapter is pretty much the "let's compare and contrast the Hetalia/Nyotalia countries!" chapter.

Thank you all for your support! Special thanks to aubrja, TokyoOtaku, Aralechan2000, Snow and Night the sisters, and twobit for your reviews! All o' y'alls are amazing and deserve a virtual mochimerica!

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**~Double Trouble~**

_Chapter 2: Americans have crazy ideas..._

Amelia played with the plastic straw stuck in her vanilla milkshake and savored the icy treat. She, her "brother," Iggy, and Arthur had all gone to a burger place (all but extinct in London; it had been very hard to find) after the meeting. Arthur had offered to cook at his house, but Alfred's face had turned a pasty white at the mention of his scones and Amelia concluded that Arthur's cooking was exactly like Alice's: inedible and maybe toxic. So, being the heroine she was, she suggested eating out instead. Arthur was surprised that she had ordered a hot dog. He was also a little disturbed by the fact that she carried around a baseball bat. She had retorted that baseball was the "bomb-diggity" and that soccer didn't hold a candle to the all-American sport, thus beginning the first Arthur-Amelia argument of many.

"So you're saying that the countries are mostly female, with only a couple males?" Arthur asked, looking doubtfully at the innocent hamburger on his plate.

"Yup!" Amelia replied, who sat next to him in the red plastic booth. "Liechtenstein is a boy, and so is Belgium, Seychelles, Belarus, Ukraine, Wy, Taiwan, Hungary, Monaco, and few others. I think Ancient Greece was male, too."

"Tell us a little about some of the female countries. I'm curious. Do they act like us?" Alfred asked, slurping on his chocolate shake.

"Let's start with the Axis Powers," Alice began, tossing one of her flaxen ponytails over her shoulder, almost hitting Alfred, who was sitting next to her, in the face. "Monika, our Germany, is very no-nonsense. She was the one with the small green military hat on. She's usually the nation that has to straighten all of us out during world meetings, and she's very organized. However, to her close friends she is a very motherly figure. She's always worrying and fussing over them, making sure they're okay and fixing them lunch and things like that."

"Sounds like you, Iggy. You're a very motherly person," Alfred snickered, ducking when a handful of chips were thrown in his direction.

"Monika fusses over Daisy the most, though, because she's so clumsy," Alice continued, ignoring Alfred and Arthur's squabbling. "Daisy, North Italy, is very friendly and outgoing. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and you can say that she even lives for love. Don't get on her bad side, though. She will beat you to a pulp if she gets really angry, and she's really brave so she won't step down from a fight."

Amelia smirked. "Remember in Africa when she wished on that star and it totally nailed you in the-"

"Belt up, Amelia," Alice snapped, turning a lovely shade of pink. "Sakura, our Japan, is a wonderful young lady," she interjected, quickly changing the subject, "She had the pink flower in her hair. She's pretty much your ideal housewife. She cooks, cleans, sews, and can defend herself if need be."

"She actually carries around metal pointed chopsticks in her kimono sleeves, so don't try anything funny with her," Amelia cut in.

"Francis is going to have a fun time with that," Arthur muttered.

"She's probably the closest to me out of all of the Axis members," Alice remarked, sipping on her fizzy drink with a thoughtful look on her face.

"Okay. Enough about the Axis. I'll do the Allied ladies," Amelia began, resting her face on her folded hands. "Chun-yan is our China. She's the one with the two buns. Most of the Asian nations were raised by her, but you probably already knew that. She's kinda quiet, and she doesn't show her emotions too easily. Her food is amazing. She doesn't talk much, but she's a really sweet girl.

"Anya, our Russia, is probably the one who has been through the most out of all of us. When she was little, she got bullied by this chick called Mongolia. She's pretty much like an emotionally unstable mother. She can be really supportive and caring sometimes, but if you say the wrong thing you'll be in for a nasty surprise."

"Wait...so Anya is actually Mother Russia?" Alfred wondered, his mouth half-full.

"Chew with your mouth closed, undignified prig," Arthur scolded, leaning across the table to smack him on the head.

"Yup! And her brother Belarus wants to marry her...but it's kinda gross because one, he's kinda a stalker, and two, he's kinda her brother," Amelia explained. "And then there's Françoise."

"Oh no." Alice groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"As you can see, Alice doesn't really get along with France. Françoise is an avid observer of the fashion world. She's actually a fashion designer in her spare time, when she isn't flirting with some upper-class gentleman," Amelia laughed, "She's really snobby. But, if you're on her good side, she can be really nice. If you're one of her close friends she and the Bad Touch Trio will try to matchmake you, though."

"I just realized there are two BTT's now," Alfred added, grinning.

Arthur deadpanned. "Why me?"

Amelia just laughed and patted his arm sympathetically. "Awww, you'll be fine, Artie. After all, you're 'the bloody British Empire,' right?"

"Anyways, let's move on to Alice, our very own UK," the American smirked, "Alice is an awesome person. She acts like a proper British lady most of the time, but she secretly is a punk. Trust me, I've seen her attic. And her tattoo that one time I had to drag her home from the pub."

Alice squawked indignantly. "How did you get up there?"

Amelia dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "She's really fond of wearing maid dresses for some peculiar reason." She leaned in, whispering. "I think it's because she's been watching Downton Abbey lately. Also, she's hallucinogenic. She talks to her 'Flying Lavender Bunny' and her magical faerie friends."

"Excuse me, but Flying Lavender Bunny is very much real, and she gets offended when you talk about her like that," Alice retorted with a huff.

"I understand your pain," Arthur smiled empathetically.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You guys are both off your rockers."

"So the only one of the Allies left is you," Alice concluded.

Amelia pouted. "You forgot Meg again. Canada is my sister Marguerite."

"Who?" Arthur asked, a confused look plain across his face.

She glared at him and continued. "Meg's probably the sweetest country out there, and she adores maple syrup. We kinda forget about her sometimes, though. She has the cutest polar bear named Kumarie, but Meg never remembers her name. Kumarie is pretty violent, actually. It's pretty scary."

"And now we come to Amelia," Alice gestured to the said girl across the table from her. "Amelia is the good old USA. She absolutely adores baseball and hot dogs. She's always late. She is very fun loving, and she's a daredevil, unfortunately."

Amelia scoffed. "Unfortunately? Sugar," she said, lapsing into a Southern accent, "I'm the one who makes your life interesting. Without me, you'd be at home doing needlework. Please."

"Needlework is a very lady-like pastime," Alice countered with a sniff.

"I never said it wasn't. I just said it was dead boring." Amelia yawned and stretched, smacking Arthur in the face accidentally (maybe).

Alfred smiled fondly at his self-adopted sister, who was currently laughing her head off and attempting protect herself from Arthur and his famous rants. After splitting the bill between them, the quartet left the restaurant and hopped into Arthur's car.

"Where are you two staying?" he asked, looking at them through the rear view mirror.

"Alice is having me for the night, along with Meg. I'm staying in London until Friday, then I take my flight back to New York," Amelia answered, popping her head out from behind the car seat.

"We'll continue our G8 meeting tomorrow, then we'll spend the next two days just relaxing and catching up, probably. We may even meet up with some of the other girls," Alice added.

"Us guys could probably join you sometime during the week," Alfred offered, "If that's okay with you."

"That would be hecka fun!" Amelia instantly brightened.

Alice tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't think any of the others are doing anything on Thursday..."

"I suppose it could work, if we could gather up enough people. It's probably a good idea, too, because we need to figure this whole mess out," Arthur mused quietly.

"I volunteer Arthur's house!" Alfred grinned, leaning back into his chair.

"Don't just volunteer me, you git!" The said Briton glared at him dangerously.

"Awwwwww! Come on, Artie!" Amelia begged, giving him her best puppy-eyes. "Do it for Alice and I!" She looked at him with pleading eyes.

D*** it. Arthur was a gentleman. He could never say no to a lady's request. "I suppose," he sighed, rubbing his forehead, ignoring the vibrant cheers coming from the back seat.

Alfred smirked and turned around in his seat. "The puppy eyes. That's the best way to get 'im. I did it all the time when I was little, and it worked every time," he whispered, chuckling.

Amelia nodded and gave him a mock salute.

After many wrong turns and almost running into a pastry shop, they finally pulled up in front of Alice's house.

"It was nice meeting you ladies," Arthur smiled and gave a small bow. He and Alfred had walked them to the front door.

"I agree. It was a pleasure," Alice returned as she unlocked the front door. She lived in a typical English house. It wasn't a mansion (she said she had one out in the country), but it was a fair sized dwelling.

"We should do it again sometime," Alfred grinned and enveloped Amelia in a bear hug, who in turn pecked him lightly on the cheek.

"It was super fun getting to know you two!" The American girl then proceeded to hug Arthur also, who was very flustered at the physical contact. "See ya' later!"

As the two male nations walked down the gravel driveway, Alfred called back, "Bye little sis!"

Amelia waved enthusiastically at the two retreating figures then shut the oak door. Meg peeked her head out from the hallway leading to the guest rooms. "Who was that?"

"That was Alfred and Arthur," she answered, giving Meg a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping into her own bedroom. It had been her room whenever she visited London back when she was still a colony, and it brought back memories, both happy and painful. She sat on the bed and changed into her pajamas, which consisted of red, white, and blue checkered shorts and a comfy Captain America t-shirt. Stepping into the room was like stepping into a mirror of the past. It still had pale blue floral wallpaper, the ink stain in the corner next to the vanity (long story), and the same set of curtains. It was almost like she had never left.

Sometimes, she would wonder what it would be like if she still was part of the British Empire. After all, for most of the war she remained a Loyalist. She guessed that Alfred had embodied the Patriot cause. In a way she had, too, she surmised quietly, after she had cut ties with Britain. After the argument with Alice.

* * *

June, 1778

Amelia sighed. The war had been raging on for almost two years. At first, Amelia was adamant against secession from Britain. After all, hadn't they raised America? They were the mother country. Yes, the British Empire may have been taxing them a bit too much. But it was to be expected, right? They had just come out of a horrendous war with France and various other countries, and they needed somewhere to collect money from to pay for the variety of repairs needed to patch the empire up. Naturally, the American colonies were the best option. They were thriving, under little rule, and were on the road to becoming wonderfully wealthy.

But now, after seeing the effects of war; burning villages, dying soldiers, rampant disease, danger lurking in every street; the young colony was beginning to have her doubts. It had started when she had first read the Declaration of Independence in 1776. She had felt empowered, ecstatic, free, to her horror. She had spent a great time in her bedroom that night, mulling over the words in the document. Amelia had always tried to suppress the rebellious emotions battling for dominance in side her, but starting that night, she had let a drop of it leak out.

That leak had become a rip, then a crack, then a gaping hole through which ideas of freedom, democracy, and equality flowed through on a regular basis. Today, she confirmed in her mind. Today was the day she would give England one last chance. Today she would sever the rope that chained her to the British Empire

The blonde girl took a deep breath and knocked on the wooden door. She knew Alice was behind it. Ever since the Boston Tea Party, Alice had lost her motherly, touching side. Amelia knew it was still in her, she just was dominated by her possessive nature. The past two years were only filled with professional talks, orders, and purely business relations. No more sisters, no more family.

Amelia longed to break through the walls Alice had set up around her, to see her real self once more. She had no idea whatsoever to what was going on behind those green eyes.

"Come in," a muffled voice rang through the door.

Amelia took a deep breath as she shut the door with a soft click. It was now or never. She looked Alice in the eye, her eyes flashing with the fires of the Patriot spirit. "I've decided that I'm not a Loyalist anymore."

* * *

Amelia winced at the vivid memory. She remembered the anger, the fear, the despair, the rage that flowed through both of their veins as they verbally sparred on that sweltering night in June. She knew that they both said things that they regretted, things that they still wouldn't talk about even today. She grimaced. What happened is in the past, you can't do anything about it. The American shook her head and gave a rueful laugh. How unpatriotic was she sounding right now? Almost regretting the Revolution? She'd have to go hang out with Alfred more often. Her heart warmed at the thought of her new brother. He was so patriotic, so full of life.

"Amelia?"

The blonde girl jumped at the sudden noise and turned quickly to face the now-open doorway.

"Oh. Hi Meg!" She plastered on a happy expression and grinned brightly. Meg was probably her favorite person in the whole world. Scratch that. She **was** Amelia's favorite person in the world.

Her sister smiled softly. "I just popped in to say goodnight." She looked around the room. "Remember the ink incident?"

Amelia laughed. "That was hilarious. Iggy was furious for days afterward. I don't know why, though."

"Maybe it's because she was completely drenched in ink?"

She jumped of the bed and enveloped her in a tight hug in response. "G'night. Sweet dreams, Meg."

Meg hugged her back, then pulled away. "See you in the morning, Amy." She padded quietly back to the room next door and closed it with a small smile.

* * *

Alice tiptoed stealthily crossed the hall from Meg's room (to whom she had just given a good night kiss) into her former charge's room. Amelia was breathing evenly, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic motion. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the nation smiled, pushing a strand of honey gold hair out of the sleeping girl's face, which she kissed softly on the forehead.

"Goodnight, love. Sweet dreams."

* * *

Aaaand...the chapter's over. I really don't know where that whole Revolutionary War thing came from. I was just typing it, and it just flowed through the keys. I do realize this chapter was a bit America and England centric, but never fear! The other countries will be focused on in the following chapters. Prussia will be there too...somewhere...*insert evil laugh*

Oh, and one more thing. I'm taking suggestions for pairings! *le gasp* If you have an awesome idea for a pairing, leave it in your review! I will definitely consider it. Be sure to specify whether it's fem! or not. Let's use good old Spamano as an example. It could be SpainxRomano, Fem!SpainxFem!Romano, Fem!SpainxRomano, or SpainxFem!Romano. Then there's also the flip side if you made it RomanoxSpain...but I highly doubt that would ever realistically happen.

And again, please review! You don't know how much it means to an author to have feedback on their stories. Reviews are love!

Until next time! ~Thal


	3. Small talk over pancakes

Wassup? It's Thal again! Here's a little omake for Canada Day!

* * *

_Omake 1: Small Talk over Pancakes...or Chocolate Birthday Cake?_

XXXXXXXXXX

Marguerite Williams sat dejectedly on her living room couch. What was today's date? July 1. Was there a special event today? Well, if you asked most of the other countries it you would get silence. Then a feeble, "uhh...three days before America's birthday?" If you happened to be in the same room as the good old US of A, however, you would get a baseball bat to the face and a "IT'S CANADA DAY, DUH! YOU GUYS ARE ALL FREAKING MORONS!"

She smiled fondly at the memory. Poor Alice had been in a comatose state for a week. But this year, Amelia had some work to do and wasn't able to celebrate Meg's birthday. Instead, she had just sent a cute card with a couple maple candies.

Meg pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged Kumachicka tightly. Why did no one remember her? Sometimes she was tempted to blame it on her boisterous sister, but she knew it wasn't the case. After all, Amelia really did love her and would always defend her, even when they were in an argument.

Even Fran, her former caretaker, would forget her name. So would Alice. Maybe she needed to be more involved. Maybe if I come up with a wonderful idea people will recognize me, admire me.

The Canadian sighed, her maple-golden hair falling in soft curls around her face. No, she didn't want their admiration. Sometimes, all she longed for was a companion. Although Amelia was a wonderful sister, she was a bit too energetic for her taste. She just wanted someone to sit with, to have small talk with over a plate of steaming pancakes. To chat with them as they ate the wonderful maple covered breakfast treats.

"I guess it's just you and me again, Kumaple. It's really dusty in here. I should get it cleaned," she mumbled, brushing an imaginary dust particle from her eye.

Ding-dong.

Another person asking her to donate to some organization for small children, no doubt. Meg pulled out a wad of cash and trudged to the front door. She opened the door, staring at the ground. "Here's some money for your organization, sir."

"Ummm...that's not exactly why I'm here," a soft voice corrected.

Meg looked up in surprise. Matthew stood on her front porch, nervously biting his lip. He was wearing his usual red pullover with the large white maple leaf. In his hand he held a chocolate cake that read "Happy Birthday!" in bright red letters. "I kinda thought that maybe we could celebrate Canada Day together...that is, if you're okay with that," he trailed off, looking at the cake intently.

Meg allowed a small smile to grace her lips. "Of course! Come on in, you can set that on the table. I'll go get some plates and silverware."

As they sat together at the table, their conversation stretched far past dusk and into the night. Maybe, Meg thought sleepily as she rested her head on her brother's shoulder, maybe chocolate cake is an okay substitute for pancakes.

* * *

How goes it, folks? There's your little Meg and Matthew fluff dose for the day. :) I do realize it was short, but Omakes are supposed to be short, right?

Anyways, this omake was just a tribute to all my lovely brothers and sisters up north. Happy Birthday, Canada!

Until next time, Thal :)


	4. Let's get this party started! (Part 1)

Thal's back! Sorry for the shortness of this one. It was originally supposed to be posted with the Canada day omake, but I decided to save it for Independence Day, then I was so busy being patriotic I forgot to post it -_- Whoops. Anyways...

**IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ A/N AT THE BOTTOM!**

Enjoy!

* * *

**~Double Trouble~**

_Chapter 3: Let's get this party started! (Part 1)_

Gillian Beilschmidt was bored. It wasn't that she was an unamazing stuck-up priss like a certain Austrian she knew (cough*Annaliese*cough) and didn't know how to totally party. Please, she was the queen of amazingness and all fantastical things in the world, fluffy chicks included. The unfortunate Prussian was simply deprived of new people to wreak havoc over. Her amazing pranks were getting a little...well...repetitive. At first, her fellow nations had reacted strongly to her antics, but after a while Gillian was tired of watching the same reactions over and over.

Then, she discovered America's states. Boy, that was a load of fun. Sometimes she didn't even have to prank them. She'd just lock the original 13 in a room with Alice. Let the Hunger Games begin. The albino girl snorted and flipped through the worn diary, resting her gaze on a picture of thirteen teenagers with mischievous glints in their eyes. The oldest one was holding a laptop computer with the music video "Friday" playing on a loop. Alice was tied to the chair with high-tech headphones plugged into the sleek device, a panicked expression on her face. Good times.

"Remember that, Beilchick? That was totally amazing," the girl laughed obnoxiously, flipping her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. She cocked her head and surveyed her room. "Beilchick?"

Her fuzzy yellow friend was nowhere to be found. Huffing, Gillian stood up and replaced the purple diary in its rightful place in the vast library. She'd have to go look for her companion, she surmised. Sighing, she rubbed the side of her face, tracing her scar with her fingers. The scar was totally amazing and made her look super bada**.

"Kesesese~! Hey Gilbird! Looks like you've got yourself an awesome buddy!"

Gillian froze in her steps and looked down the hallway that led to the garden. That voice sounded like the male equivalent of her voice. She smirked. Daisy had been jabbering about something like "the cute boy countries" after she and Monika had come home after the latest G8 meeting. She had initially just brushed it off as Daisy being Daisy, but now she was beginning to have second thoughts.

"Hello? The awesome me has arrived to blow all of your unawesome minds!" A young man burst through the doorway, holding two chicks, one of them being Beilchick.

Gillian, after recovering from the initial shock, strode boldly up to the stranger. "You're my super amazing male counterpart, right?" she asked.

The boy looked her up and down. "I knew I would be a totally sexy girl," he grinned slyly. "Is this your chick?"

"Beilchick!" The Prussian woman gave a squeal of excitement and began stroking her beloved pet. She turned back to the stranger. "Gillian Beilschmidt, by the way."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt." Gilbert slung his arm around her shoulder.

"I bet you're totally awed by my amazing presence, aren't you, bruder," Gillian teased, looking up at his twinkling eyes.

"Yes. I have to admit, you might just be as awesome as me," he replied, sighing a bit. "I don't know if you're on the same page as me, but I think we have some countries to prank."

Gillian cackled. "Oh yes. We're definitely on the same page."

* * *

Arthur furrowed his brows and huffed in annoyance. That bloody git just had to volunteer him as the host of the party-meeting-gathering-thing. And Amelia! She and her feminine wiles. Stupid puppy eyes. The Briton groaned. D*** all this gentlemanly behavior. The doorbell rang, echoing throughout his large home. He opened the door cautiously and peeked his head through the crack.

Alice stood in the doorway, holding a glass tray covered in aluminum foil. "Hello, Arthur. How have you been doing?" she asked politely as she stepped in his house.

"Just cleaning. Not that there's much to clean in the first place," he answered. "Most of it will be held in the back yard." He was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a faint ring.

"Straight down the hallway then turn left," he explained, "There's a table outside where you can put your food tray."

The doorbell rang again, prompting Arthur to rush back to the foyer.

Monika, Ludwig, and Daisy stood in the doorway, all holding a tray or bowl of food.

"Guess what I brought!" Daisy said, bouncing around.

"Pasta?" Arthur guessed.

"No! Pizza!" Daisy smiled sweetly and uncovered a corner of her tray, letting out a wonderful aroma of basil, mozzarella, and tomato.

"Hey!" A young Italian woman ran down the street with a large bowl resting on her hip. "Don't leave me behind like that again, bastardo!" she growled, readjusting the green headband resting on her chestnut hair. She narrowed her eyes when she spotted Arthur. "So you're the male equivalent of Alice, huh? Nice to meet you. I'm Chiara Katarina Lovina Vargas."

Arthur blinked. That was a very long name. This girl seemed almost respectable, unlike her male counterpart. He quickly regained his composure and smiled politely. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Chiara. Arthur Kirkland, at your service."

She smirked. "D*** straight you're at my service." The Italian girl shoved the bowl of ripe tomatoes into his hands. "I'm gonna go to the back." She sauntered off, not even bothering to take off her shoes as she crossed his antique carpet.

"Ve~, sorella! Hai lasciato i tuoi pomodori!" Daisy called after her, then turned to face Arthur. "She's just like that sometimes," she apologized, then smiled brightly. "Where should I put my pizza?"

The trio followed Arthur through the house to the back garden, where they arranged their various dishes on the table.

"You have a very nice place, Arturo. The flowers are so pretty, ve~!"

"Oh crap!"

CRASH

Arthur sprinted inside his house to the front room where he was met by a lovely sight. The whole North American family was sprawled out on his rug. Alfred was on the bottom, smushed face-down in the carpet. Matthew was sprawled out on top of him lengthwise and was desperately trying to recover his glasses. Marguerite was next, precariously trying to balance her plate of maple pancakes. Amelia was on the top of the dog-pile, knocked out. Luckily, her Boston Cream Pie and Alfred's apple pie were safely sitting on a chair near the door.

"What in the name of King George are you all doing in my sitting room?!" the Brit screeched, panicking.

Alfred looked up, his glasses slightly askew on his face. "Well...I wanted to prove that I could swing that Louisville slugger just as hard as Amelia could, so I was about to swing it, then Mattie tackled me so I fell, but I let go of the bat and it hit Amelia, then she got all dizzy and held on to Meg for support, but Meg fell on top of Mattie, and Amelia fell on top of her."

"I won't even begin to tell you how grammatically horrifying that last sentence was," Arthur remarked dryly as he gently removed Amelia from the top of the pile and put her on the couch.

Meg heaved in relief. "Can you take my pancakes, please? I think I might drop them any minute now," she requested in a soft, out-of-breath voice. Arthur took the plate from the worn-out Canuk and placed it next to Amelia, then held his hand out to help her up.

"I'm dying down here. Hurry up, Iggy," Alfred complained, ignoring Arthur's vehement protests at his name, as Meg slowly got up from the dog pile and dusted off her skirt.

Once Matthew was free he immediately went on a glasses hunt. After all, he was pretty much blind without them. Alfred rolled over on his back. "Sweet air! Your carpet is really smelly, Iggster. It smells like tea."

"Don't call me Iggster, you git," Arthur snapped.

Alfred smiled at him, unperturbed. "At least I didn't call you Iggy." And with that, he swept up his unconscious sister and carried her bridal style out to the garden, where he set her down on a shaded bench.

Meg and Matthew groaned and took their trays of food out to the backyard.

"Bonjour Mathieu, Marguerite."

Arthur fumed. How did that bloody frog get to the garden without him noticing? He stomped out and growled, "Francis, how the bloody he-"

"Je suis désolé, mon cher, but my name isn't Francis," a brunette woman sighed. "You'd think a gentleman like you wouldn't shout at a lady, but I could be wrong." Her face was contorted expression of mock hurt, but her violet eyes twinkled mischievously.

The Brit stuttered, "I-I'm so sorry...I-"

"Oh, belt up. No need to get so worked up about it, it's only Fran," Alice cut him off abruptly.

"Only Fran?" the Frenchwoman huffed, "I beg to differ."

"Hola! I brought some churros!" A stylish brunette walked out from the back door, holding a steaming plate. She had her hair swept up into a bun, a few stray strands hanging around her face. "How's California, Alfredo?"

He had by now joined the conversation and was staring at her intently. "Wait...were you that Spanish nun that introduced me to Cal?"

"Sí." She smiled warmly, recalling the memory. "I haven't seen Gabriela in a while."

"Wait...your states are personified?" Chiara interjected, her eyes narrowing into amber slits.

Alfred chose to be oblivious and not read the atmosphere and instead began greeting the various other nations that had arrived. "Kiku, Sakura! Is that tempura? And nikajuga?"

"Hai, Alfred-san. Where should I put it?" Sakura answered, bowing slightly.

"Just over here!"

"Ve~! The party is really nice, Arturo! I brought some pasta."

"Bonjour! Come say hi to Big Brother France!"

"Chigi~! The wine bastard is going to get me! Carmen, come save me!"

"I brought some Chinese tasty treats, aru."

"Hello Chun-yan. It's a nice gathering, da?"

"It's Yao! I'm a man, aru!"

"...I brought Corporal Cat...do you like him?"

"Hai. He's very cute, Heracles-kun."

"Cuteness originated in me, da-ze!"

"BOW BEFORE ME YOU UNAMAZING EXCUSES FOR LIFE!"

"..."

"..."

All the nations looked up to see Gillian standing majestically atop the lowest branch on the tree in Arthur's back garden. Her waist-length hair billowed in the air. "Let's get this party started!" she yelled, jumping to the ground, confetti flying everywhere.

"Kesesesese~! Drinks all around!" Gilbert strutted through the back door, holding a cooler with a wide variety of drinks. After depositing it under the food table, he promptly walked back inside, only to return with a boombox. He then proceeded to blast it up to full volume and put on "Canadian, Please."

Needless to say, Matthew and Marguerite were properly mortified.

* * *

So...did you like it? Again, I apologize for the length. It will be definitely longer next time :)

Okay. Now for the good stuff. I am still taking pairing options. Now, I will not feature every single suggestion, as that would be impossible to do unless I did a super complicated love dectriangle. I'm not doing a dectriangle.

Step 1: Make a review

Step 2: At the end of the review, make some pairing suggestions. I'm not limiting you to a certain number, however. You can be specific (e.g. Fem!PrussiaxAustria) or as vague as you like (e.g. anything Frying Pangle).

Everyone got it? Okay then.

Oh! I almost forgot. Would anyone of you guys be interested in a Steampunk AU featuring mechanic America and criminal mastermind England? It's been kinda floating around in my mind for a while. It'll most likely be a one-shot, maybe a two-shot. If you're interested, insert it in the review. Okay.

Please, REVIEW! Reviews make the world go 'round.

Au revoir, ~Thal


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